


light my fire

by obsessivelymoody



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 02:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17316437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivelymoody/pseuds/obsessivelymoody
Summary: Indoor fireworks weren't Phil's best idea.





	light my fire

**Author's Note:**

> based on the prompt: “Why did we think this was a good idea?”
> 
> Thanks to [capriciouscrab](https://capriciouscrab.tumblr.com/) for prompting it!

“I think we can kiss our deposit goodbye.” 

“No.” Phil scrubs the sofa with a tad more vigor. “I’m not giving up.” 

Dan sighs. “At least dab it you spoon! Dab, don’t scrub! You’re gonna make it worse.” 

He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re not helping, Dan.” 

Dan huffs and Phil hears him plop down onto the armchair across the room. He rolls his eyes, reluctantly taking the advice and easing his scrubbing into light dabs. 

Soon he develops a rhythm between dabbing the sofa cushion and dipping the rag into the cup of cleaning solution google told him would work (Phil’s not sure how accurate it is, as the spot on the sofa looks suspiciously the same as it did ten minutes ago). Dan quietly taps away on his phone, fireworks faintly going off in the distance. 

Nearly five minutes later, the spot on the sofa still looking the same and Phil's frustrated fatigue growing exponentially, Dan quietly snickers, tapping his phone rapidly. 

A twinge of annoyance pulses in his chest, and he sits back on his heels, dropping the cleaning rag on the floor. He mumbles under his breath about how stupid this is, looking over at Dan still grinning at his phone. 

Phil gets up, making his way to the back of the armchair. 

“Why did we think this was a good idea?” he sighs, leaning against the chair and dropping his head onto Dan's shoulder. “That spot is never coming out.” 

Dan puts his phone down in his lap, leaning away from Phil and looking at him with narrowed eyes. “Oh, this is a _we_ thing? You think this is a _we_ thing, do you?” 

“Um—”

Dan's fully twisted in the chair now, one knee up on the seat, his face inches away from where Phil is still leaning against the back. 

“So if this is a we thing, who ordered the fireworks Phil? Who dropped the box on the kitchen counter this morning?” He leans in closer with every word, so much so that Phil’s had to back up, and that he has both knees on the seat of the chair, his hands braced against the back. Phil's fully standing now, half trying not to laugh at the expression on Dan's face, half bracing himself for whatever Dan decides to do next. 

“Who said ‘hey Dan, look what I found online the other day, thought we could try them out tonight’? Who set them up in the lounge?” 

“Okay! Okay—” 

“No Phil,” Dan grabs his wrist and pulls him flush against the back of the chair, poking at his torso, hard. 

“Ow, hey—” He slaps at Dan's hand, feeling a wide grin stretch across his face as Dan natters on, still prodding him. 

“And _who_ lit them on fire? Who was that Phil? Was it _me_? Was it a joint effort between _us_?” 

Phil's fully giggling now as he tries to wiggle his wrist out of Dan's vice-like grip, still trying to slap his finger away. He can tell Dan's trying not to laugh by the way his bottom lip is between his teeth, making Phil even more amused. A few more seconds of back and forth pass between them before he finally lands a proper slap on the back of Dan's hand, the sound echoing slightly off the high ceiling. 

They pause for a second, smiles still almost ghoulishly etched on their faces, until Dan gets a glint in his eye. He pulls Phil's wrist harder, making him bend slightly at the waist against the armchair, his chest grazing Dan’s. Dan digs his finger into a soft part of Phil's stomach, making him laugh harder.

“Alright! _Ow_ —alright,” Phil says between giggles. “Fine. You're right. You win. Get off.” 

“Ha!” he exclaims, pulling off of him. “Fuck you, you know I'm right!”

“And that slap hurt, you tit.” Dan continues, turning back around and picking his phone out from where it fell down the side of the chair. 

“Sorry,” he says, watching Dan unlock his phone and settle back into his seat. 

A moment later, Phil starts laughing again. 

“What?” Dan asks, looking up at him. “What the hell is so funny?” 

“You know,” he says, regaining his composure. “You can say what you want about me buying the fireworks and lighting them, but you never stopped me. You still let me do it.”

“I—” His face turns red, and he looks back down at his phone. “You—god shut up, just clean the damn sofa Phil, or I'll make you sleep on it.” 

Phil lets out a fake gasp. “You wouldn't.” 

“I would. Now get cleaning.” 

He scoffs, leaning down over the back of the chair again to kiss Dan on the cheek. Phil watches him roll his eyes and smile. 

“Happy new year, babe.” He says, poking Dan's dimple. 

“Happy new year Phil.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can like/reblog this on [tumblr](https://obsessivelymoody.tumblr.com/post/181752505327/94-for-the-writing-prompts) if you want.


End file.
